


Destiny Could Crumble

by cryingmathematically



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arthur manages to push everyone out of his life, F/F, M/M, and ends up sad and alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingmathematically/pseuds/cryingmathematically
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur loved each other, but timing and the breach of secrets kept them apart. Can they find happiness elsewhere?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Sensible Emotions

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thanks for opening! It's my first Merlin fic, so I'm a bit nervous.
> 
> The prologue takes place in mid-show somewhere, and focuses on the relationship between Merlin and Arthur, with POV Merlin. It will jump forward in time for the chapters themselves, and diverge from canon. POV characters and relationship focus will shift. None of the Merlin/Mordred will happen before Mordred grows up.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

The day Merlin realized he was in love with Arthur was one of the most painful of his life.

The specifics of the surrounding situation had faded somewhat in his memory, leaving in their place only the cruelly vivid recollections of the swirling emotions. Before the moment itself there was fear. And then later, relief. They had been in danger again, and Merlin thought that Arthur might die. That was the fear. Then he thought he might be able to save Arthur at the expense of his own safety or potentially life. That had been the relief.

Merlin had not considered before that moment that that reaction, that relief, might be a mark of something deeper. Feeling relief at facing death did not make emotional sense when it stood alone. It required something else. To not value one's own life, perhaps, but Merlin did not want to die. So it must be something else.

All this had been lingering somewhere at the back of his mind, slightly puzzling but not requiring focus while he and Arthur remained in any danger. But then Arthur had cracked open his eyes and and he was okay, he was okay, okay, he was fine and alive and he was not going to die and everything would be alright and they were together again. They were together. And Merlin desperately had wanted in that moment to gather Arthur into his arms and to press their foreheads and then mouths together in a kiss that might never be broken.

And there was the missing puzzle piece.

\---

There were so many reasons that it could never work. Not for him, not for Merlin. This realization had been sitting with him for weeks, rotting his stomach into despair and pain. He has to convince himself, totally convince himself, that a relationship with Arthur was something he couldn't want.

He could not risk becoming even closer to Arthur without revealing his magic. That was impossible. He couldn’t force Arthur to choose between himself and Uther. Besides, he knew who Arthur would choose. Who he always chose. Arthur might frequently disagree with Uther, but he would never betray him.

Merlin slams his hunting knife into his bedside table.

Either choice Arthur made would spell disaster. He would never be able to fully recover from what he saw as betrayal and his destiny would be compromised. And if he did send Merlin away, how could he protect Arthur? The decision could never be brought to him.

The knife digs again into the wood.

Arthur was the prince. Of Camelot. As Arthur had so handily reminded Merlin when Arthur thought that Merlin carried an infatuation for Morgana, he could be in a lot of trouble if he seduced a member of the royal court. Arthur was even more untouchable than Morgana. She was the ward of a king. He would be the king.

Merlin thrusts the knife. He rests his hand on the hilt, curling his fingers over the base. His forehead presses down to meet the taut back of his palm. Tears slip from his eyes.

Pursuing Arthur would end with Merlin dead or banished from Camelot any way he looked at it. Destiny would crumble as easily as the stone of Camelot should he not be there to protect it.

The table no longer offers enough resistance.

Merlin drags his palms up to the sides of his fallen head. He closes his eyes, wanting to be reckless just once in a way he couldn't repeat. He doesn't bother to look around himself, feeling a spike of vindictive pleasure at his forgoing of caution. He lifts the knife with his magic, letting it hover in the center of the room. With a flourish and a glint of light it sinks hilt-deep into the wall.

It isn’t enough.

It has to be enough.

\---

In the morning Merlin is slightly embarrassed about his knife-throwing antics of the night before. He doesn't have to make his situation into some sort of tragic romance. People loved others who would never love them back all the time. Or two people loved each other and through circumstance were kept apart. He is not the first to feel this, and he is far from the last. People got over it. That's what they did.

Or they ran off and eloped or threw themselves from parapets or made unwise declarations of love and carried on unwise affairs.

His slightly strained smile twists. He looks at his feet, drawing in a long breath and holding it for a moment at the top before releasing it in a deliberately silent gust. That was just in the stories.

"Is anything wrong, Merlin?" He hears the uncertain voice of Gaius behind him.

Merlin is aware that he had not been acting exactly normally for a while, but pausing on the way to the door in order to stare at his shoes and sigh is another level of different and notable.

He lifts his chin and smiles before turning towards Gaius.

"Everything is great! I'm just a bit exhausted." He palms his eyes ostentatiously for effect. Gaius looks at him for a moment before raising an eyebrow and turning away.

"In that case I suppose you had better get off to work." Merlin is being let off this time, he knew. He is going to have to get better at lying. Preferably in the next minute before he reaches Arthur's chambers.

He can do it, though. Everyone thinks that he is hopelessly transparent, but he can keep a secret. Morgana's magic, from herself and then from everyone else. His own. His many unsanctioned and illegal adventures. Morgana's trying to kill Uther. His almost allowing it to happen.  
Perhaps this will not be so hard after all. Just one more lie onto the list. Lies of words and lies of omission.

Merlin swings open the door and smiles at the sight of Arthur's sleeping form. Absence of romance does not preclude absence of affection. He pulls the curtains open in a swift movement so that the bright morning light falls onto the bed.

"Rise and shine! Shouldn't you be up attending to your princely duties or something?"

His still dozing friend pulls a pillow over his head with a groan. Arthur reconsiders a moment later and slings it blindly back at Merlin. It hits its target squarely but without any true force.

  
"If you're going to drag me out of bed, don't do it before you completely have to." He rolls over, eyes still knit shut against the glare. "You don't even have my clothes ready, I expect." Cracking an eye and seeing his expectation fulfilled, Arthur opens both eyes to be able to roll them.

Merlin walks to Arthur's wardrobe unapologetically. While it is true that Arthur's bare chest causes a slight tightening in Merlin's own stomach, he thinks he can separate his care and friendship from his love for all appearances. It is not odd for him and Arthur to be close, as they had been before. It is even required for the dragon's prophecies. He need not lose his friend.

When he returns and pulls the tunic over Arthur's head, Arthur looks him down with a mixture of bemusement, suspicion, and perhaps indulgence. "Why are you so happy all of a sudden?"

"Nothing. I'm just well-rested for once."

Arthur pauses a moment before shrugging. Merlin knows that Arthur noticed Merlin's slight listlessness in recent weeks, but since this is an improvement in his condition rather than a worsening Arthur lets it go.

"I didn't let you off any earlier last night, but at least you've slept. Perhaps it has been your visits to the tavern seemingly every other night." He smirks lightly, but it's really more of a smile.

Merlin offers no comment. They let the matter drop, moving on to the topics and insults of the day.

Merlin's smile, of course, has nothing to do with sleep. It's because he can do this. It will be hard, but he has done harder things to keep Arthur safe. And he has time to figure himself out. He can take all the time he needs, as long as he's able to keep his romantic inclinations private. He can be friend and protector and companion and manservant and leave it at that.

The tasks of the morning are now done, and Arthur leaves for the day's training. Merlin looks affectionately at his back before he trots after him. Merlin will be fine, and Arthur will be great. A great king who will do great things.

If Merlin compromises that, what would be the point of their destiny?


	2. Prologue 2: Questions of Morality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana looks for help in her confusion, and Gwen is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of a larger Chapter 1, but it stands better as another prologue to set up Gwen and Morgana's relationship the way Prologue 1 did Arthur and Merlin's. Set during Uther's reign and still not very canon-divergent.
> 
> Enjoy!

It is better, Morgana now realizes, that she did not stay with the Druids. This is difficult to remember on the nights when bitter resentment boils over as she listens to Uther talk and holds a calm smile on her own face. She wonders, then, what life would be like if she had made a different choice. The idyll in her imagination pins the smile in place even when her resolve weakens and she grows close to slamming her goblet down on the table or on her king's head. Through this all, what holds her to Camelot is Gwen.

In her fantasies, Gwen and her are together in the Druid camp. However, in reality Morgana is under no illusions about what would have happened. She and Gwen were not as close then as they are now. They would have separated. Morgana would live a magical life, and Gwen would work and perhaps wonder what became of her old mistress. Life without Gwen would follow a far different path.

Morgana is not so blind that she cannot recognize certain tendencies within herself. When she is left alone inside her head she begins with a premise and follows it ruthlessly forward, accepting everything that it implies. This by itself does not have to be a problem. After all, if you start with true premises and move logically forward you will end with true implications. If you begin with the fact that the sun is out and you know that if the sun is out it is day, then it must be day. Unequivocally so.

If the king is evil and evil people must be killed, then the king must die.

However, Morgana would not recheck the basic premises themselves. She needs someone there to pull her out of her head and force her to defend and potentially reconsider her assertions. Gwen does a splendid job of that.

Gwen makes Morgana reconsider how far it was moral to hurt people in order to help others. This is only theoretical for most people, and best left to the philosophers. However, both she and Gwen understand the reality they are discussing. Uther.

Morgana still disagrees with Gwen’s near-total nonviolence, but her beliefs have changed nonetheless. Morgana believes that if someone has murdered or caused great harm to scores of others and continues to do so and the only way of stopping them is to kill them then it was perfectly justified to do so. She doesn't think anymore, however, that it would be justified to kill innocents in order to stop the tyrant. Well, perhaps a few, but not many and not completely on purpose.

Gwen does not find it acceptable to kill under these circumstances. Morgana hopes that she has convinced Gwen on some level, but Gwen retains a fiercely kind sense of pacifism that she will not break. Morgana both loves and dislikes that about her.

She envies Gwen for that more often than it angers her. To be so sure of the lines between right and wrong. To not have to dance the bloody dance between who can die and who cannot, and when it becomes too many.

\---

Morgana and Gwen became intimate only after Morgana recognized her powers. She had been in a period of what she had seen as weakness, needing someone to talk to. Merlin was possible, but he was Arthur's. Morgana could trust him to keep one large secret from Arthur, easy to remember and to keep separate from everyday life. However, she wasn't close enough to Merlin to trust him with the scores of mundane ones. A story of a spell or a dream or a spark might accidentally slip out in front of Arthur, especially when Merlin was drunk. Besides, people would grow suspicious if Merlin and Morgana began spending much more time together. She didn’t particularly want him losing his head on the block because of her.

Morgana had been friends with Gwen so long that she probably suspected her. Her litany of dreams, related to Gwen after she woke a screaming Morgana from her sleep. The fire, of course. Her disappearance to the Druid camp right afterwards.

It happened one evening as Gwen was brushing Morgana's hair for bed. Morgana sat at her vanity and looked into the mirror at the face of her maidservant behind her.

Morgana began the conversation as casually as she could, ready to retreat if things got ugly. If she couldn't take Gwen as her confidant, she didn't want to be thrown out of Camelot as well.

"Gwen, what do you think of magic?" she began.

Gwen looked slightly surprised. She could tell, even though Morgana tried to conceal it, that this was an important question and an even more important answer.

"I'm not sure, my lady. Certainly I think the punishments for it are too harsh and indiscriminate." She paused here. "I don't believe that it can only be used in malice. That Druid boy was innocent, I'm sure of that. But most of the examples of magic I've seen have been for evil, targeting the innocents of Camelot. I'm not sure if that’s the magic corrupting them, as Uther says, or simply their punishing Camelot for its policies. I’m not familiar enough with it to judge."

This was a tolerant, sensible, and entirely kind answer. It was the sort of answer that Morgana had hoped and expected that Gwen would give. She stood and turned to face Gwen, stepping slightly to the side away from the chair. She took Gwen’s hands into her own.

"Gwen, can I tell you something that you will never be able to repeat?" Against her will, a tone best described as pleading crept into her voice.

"Of course, lady." It was spoken softly.

A moment of fear passed through Morgana. It was quickly replaced by shame at having felt it-- magic was nothing to be frightened of. There was nothing wrong with it.

"I have magic," she said.

Gwen raised her eyebrows and lifted her head lightly, but did not remove her hands.

"Did you study it? Or do you just possess it, like the boy?"

Morgana shook her head. "I did not. I did not choose this." She raised her head to look at Gwen with indignation. "There is nothing wrong with it."

"I did not say there was, my lady." Gwen met her gaze. "You could not be repellent to me. If your magic is a part of you then it cannot be evil, for you are not."

That was more than Morgana could even have hoped for, and she was overwhelmed with gratitude and happiness. She sank forward into Gwen's arms, hugging her close. Gwen was surprised for a moment-- their friendship had always been laced with propriety-- but wrapped her arms around Morgana's shoulders and returned the embrace.

And that is how it began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, any comments are welcome.
> 
> Chapter 1 is starting to come together, so it'll appear for real sometime relatively soon.
> 
> Also again, I don't own Merlin, and I'm not making any money off of this.


	3. Duty and Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the beginning of Arthur's reign, he must consider taking a wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 is set during Arthur's reign. Morgana knows she is his half-sister, but he does not. She has not openly betrayed him yet, and remains in Camelot. Canon divergence starts here.

Arthur is remembering his father again. The memories are different than the actual relationship ever was. The Uther of recollection is one of wise, if sometimes harsh, policies. An Uther with a guiding vision of Camelot that deserves to be replicated.

Tonight, Arthur is remembering his father’s frequent demands that he take a wife. The reasons alone would be enough to sway him to it. Without an heir, violence almost always provides the path of succession, ruining any peace and progress he might have established over his reign. It is part of his duty to marry and raise the next king of Camelot. With all his enemies, it is imperative that he do this soon. A king is always prepared for his own death, or he is no king at all, caring more about himself than his reign.

Who, though, would Arthur marry? He did not need to love the girl, that was unreasonable, but he did need to be able to stand her presence. He did not want to sentence himself, or her for that matter, to a life of misery or cold interaction. There were no political matches currently available that were important enough to make that probability worth it.

He would have to choose someone he knew already, then. But there weren’t exactly a legion of pleasant young noblewomen hanging about Camelot. He decides to give himself a bit of time to reflect before bringing it up to Merlin.

\---

“Merlin, I need your input on something,” Arthur says the next evening.

“You’re asking for my advice?” Merlin asks incredulously. “Can I remind you of this later whenever you talk about how useless I am?”

“I said input, not advice! It’s completely different.”

“But you value my input, then. I want to hear you say it.” It’s not completely kind, teasing Arthur in his moment of vulnerability, so Merlin leaves behind the usual mode of relating. “You know I would help you on anything, Arthur. Whatever you need, ask.”

“I… need,” he starts, uncomfortable with the concept  of needing, “to marry. I need a wife.”

Merlin feels a pang at the idea of Arthur spending his life with another, but he’s known all along that this must happen.

“I’m not completely sure how I can help you there.”

Arthur paces to the other side of the room, arms waving slightly as he talks. “You know me better than probably anyone, so I’m sure you can understand why I don’t want some political marriage. She would be around me so much, some of her views would certainly rub off. I need someone who shares the values of Camelot. I mean, imagine if she came from somewhere where magic was openly practiced.” He wrinkles his nose at the thought. “She would probably be telling me all the time about how the fundamental law of Camelot, all that holds us together, what my father worked so hard for, was wrong. I mean, I have to be able to deal with criticism, but she should complement me, not oppose me, whispering in my ear for years. . .” Arthur pauses, taking in Merlin’s look of shocked pain. “Merlin, are you alright?”

“Yes. Fine. Of course,” Merlin blurts. “Just thinking. I mean, it’s a big problem you’re delivering.” He smiles a bit too widely, the effect disquieting.

Arthur looks hurt. “If you don’t want to help, you could have just said.”

The smile drops from Merlin’s face to be replaced with a look of genuine pain. “It’s not that, sire. I do want to help you, I do. I’m perfectly fine.”

Arthur, comforted if not convinced, continues. “I  need to marry soon-- I can’t leave the kingdom without an heir. So it has to be someone I know already. I can’t just wait for fate to intervene. But who, Merlin? Who can I marry?”

Arthur stands turned toward Merlin, arms stretched out and held just away from his body in a gesture of helplessness and hopelessness.

“You don’t have a lot of options,” Merlin begins, biding his time while he thinks. “I mean, I think you and Gwen would rule very well together. You two get on very well. I don’t know if that would solve the whole duty and honor thing, but I think she’s the only female friend you have besides Morgana, and I’m assuming she’s off the table.” Merlin doesn’t voice the full explanation of why marrying Morgana would be the worst idea Arthur has ever had. Arthur does not know that Morgana is his half-sister, and Merlin is not going to be the one to tell him. Luckily Arthur has no desire for Morgana, so it is not suspicious to leave her off of considerations.

“Gwen . . .” Arthur says the name as if he is testing it. “Gwen. You know, that’s not a bad idea. She’s smart and kind, she would be a good councillor. Thank you, Merlin.” He turns to Merlin with gratitude and clasps his shoulders with a sort of pat, a hug that was reconsidered at the last moment.

“Merlin, wait a moment,” Arthur calls Merlin back as he leaves after finishing the nightly rituals.

“Yes, sire?”

“Don’t say anything to Gwen, alright?” he asks. “I should talk to Morgana first. I wouldn’t want to insult her by proposing to her maid without asking her first.”

“Of course,” Merlin assures him. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight.”

If Arthur is to be honest with himself about his feelings (not something altogether common) he would admit that he does not like discussing marriage with his manservant. It is better than marrying without consulting him, but neither are comfortable.

He who values loyalty above all else is drawn to he who is completely loyal to him. He relies on Merlin, but he also loves him.

And that is where he cannot be honest with himself, because although he trusts Merlin completely and knows that Merlin trusts him as well, he also knows that Merlin holds back. Today, for instance. Merlin was upset and would not explain why or even acknowledge it. Other moments come every so often like this. Merlin is not so good at keeping secrets as he imagines.

Although Merlin trusts Arthur with everything else, he does not trust him with his emotions. This leaves Arthur too frightened to voice his own.

\---

There is a knock on Morgana’s chamber door.

“Come in,” she calls.

Arthur enters, not who she expected.

“Oh, what could bring you here? Surely something interesting,” she says with only the barest hint of malice in her voice. It has been a long stilting day and a bit of sparring is exactly what she needs. She cannot afford to be openly hostile yet, though, so she smiles invitingly as if she had been looking forward to meeting him. She has had enough practice to do this well, and Arthur does not note the dissonance between face, words, and tone.

“Morgana, you know that as the future I must needs wed,” Arthur says almost formally.

She frowns prettily for effect. “Oh, I do hope you’re not suggesting anything inappropriate.” She would like him to begin uncomfortable to make the field uneven in her favor, and it is satisfying to see the expected discomfort shoot across his face.

“Oh, don’t be disgusting, Morgana. No, I actually mean to ask for Gwen’s hand and I wanted to talk to you first. I know it seems a silly or impractical match, but honestly I think she would make a great queen. It’s not as if I know anyone else who would do better. I didn’t want to insult you by taking away your maidservant without addressing you. Surely you see that Gwen is worthy far beyond her station--”

“Yes, Gwen is a fantastic woman,” Morgana cuts him off. “But surely you’re not thinking of doing this now?” Gwen was hers; she didn’t want anything to compromise their relationship.

“Morgana,” he sighs in exasperation, stressing the second syllable. “I can’t just put off marrying as a personal favor. What would that change, anyway? Gwen isn’t suddenly going to become someone else.”

“No, of course not. I would just like a little bit of time to think, if that’s all right.”

“Sure,” Arthur shrugs. He’s never certain what’s going through Morgana’s head, making her react how she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! :)
> 
> I don't own Merlin and am not making any money off of this.
> 
> Ch. 2 will return to Morgana POV.


	4. Splutters of Convention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The marriage discussions take place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV Morgana, set right after Chapter 1.

Morgana considered simply yelling no, never telling Gwen, and putting a stop to the whole business. A moment after the initial shock, however, her emotions parted like clouds to reveal the strategy behind.

Gwen could become queen. And then if Arthur were to die. . .

They could both be queens, rule legitimately together. It would be all Morgana had ever dreamed.

Gwen would be expected to marry at some point anyways. It would be better for Morgana to be involved, then. Everyone involved would be properly aware of the fact that this was no love match, and Gwen would stay close, emotionally and physically, to Morgana. Or rather, even closer. Gwen would move into the palace, live in another room like Morgana’s instead of that place in the lower town.

She doesn’t want Gwen to marry Arthur, certainly. Morgana stands against him, even if not openly, and she doesn’t want to give him any power over Gwen’s life. Even that, however, is largely irrelevant. He is the king and she is a servant. He already has large power over Gwen. Wives are rarely respected, but still more so than servants.

Morgana can’t think of any more reasons to convince herself to follow her emotional reaction. She roughly straightens her dress in impatience and frustration, then brushes her hair behind her back with a sweep of her hand. She has people to talk to.

\---

Morgana decides to talk first to Gwen, although it breaks all convention of a proposal. The bride is not a part of the discussion.

She realizes with a bleak and breathy chuckle that in this marriage arrangement she is playing the role of Gwen’s father.

Morgana likes power. She wouldn’t try to convince herself that she doesn’t. But her power over Gwen is exactly the type of power that she is so uncomfortable with Arthur holding.

She brushes the thought out of her mind. She is not Arthur. Power depends upon the person. The situations are totally separate.   
Morgana straightens and tilts her chin up. She smooths the pleats in her skirt and calls out.

“Gwen? Could you come in here?”

Gwen, as a lady’s maid, stays within hearing distance while performing her chores unless Morgana is otherwise occupied. It is then that she leaves to clean other rooms and do her other tasks.

Gwen appears a moment later. They are on a much more equal footing, but the habits and training of a girl born into a serving family and destined for a serving job remain. Gwen is still at work, even if it is for her partner. She still must show her competence to the palace at large.

“Yes, lady?” she asks.

“Gwen, Arthur wants to marry you,” Morgana says. She figures that she may as well begin bluntly. Dancing around the issue won’t make it any different. “He’s looking for an easy queen who he can respect. I think he’s getting anxious about marrying.”

Gwen has known Morgana long enough to not take the implied admission that if he had more time the king would be looking for someone more appropriate as an insult. Morgana does not equate status with worth, but she is practical and recognizes that the rest of the world does.

“And what do you think?” Gwen can read Morgana’s face, but the emotions it displays are complicated and contradictory. She is in her power stance, compensating for a vulnerability in making a difficult decision.

It is Morgana’s last chance to change her mind.

“It wouldn’t have to change anything in our relationship, and you would get that much more power. And you would make a great queen.” Morgana steps forward and places her hands on Gwen’s hips and pulls her in for a kiss.

Gwen’s not going to let Morgana off without a real discussion, though. Morgana tends to avoid discussing her emotions, but it’s clear folly to do something this serious without talking it over. Gwen leans in to accept the kiss but then pulls her head back, resting their foreheads against each other.

“And do you want the power for myself or for you?” Her voice is soft and low, firm but not accusatory.

Morgana sighs. Lying will get her nowhere with Gwen. “It isn’t some selfish wish. It’s for both of us. I trust you with a throne more than I trust anyone else, and you deserve so much more than a job as a maid. You deserve to be queen. And hopefully someday I could be queen with you.” She brushes Gwen’s cheek with this last sentence.

Gwen laughs. “I’ll accept and be queen if you promise not to murder Arthur,” she bargains.

Morgana starts. "I don't recall saying anything about murder," she says somewhat stiffly.

"Morgana, love, I know how royal succession works. And I know your feelings about Arthur. But I'm not going to marry him just to kill him."

"Fine," Morgana responds. "Fine, I'll behave." It's not a new conversation.

Morgana traces Gwen's collarbone tenderly with her finger. Gwen takes her hand and leans towards her, bringing their mouths together again. The discussion is finished for the night.

\---

The conversation with Arthur is a somewhat different affair.

As Morgana walks by him in the corridors one day, she stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You may go ahead and ask Gwen,” she informs him with a bright smile. “She’ll say yes.”

She walks off immediately, leaving a confused and irritated Arthur behind spluttering about procedure and convention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short and took so long to get up-- the end of summer has been hectic. School starts soon, though, so it may be a bit before Ch. 3 goes up. Sorry!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and make sure to leave any feedback you have!


	5. The Point of Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana and Gwen experience strain in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is pretty short! But such is life.
> 
> Also sorry, apparently in my headcanon everyone is a terrible person. Ah, blame the show.
> 
> Warning for attempted murder. (But no character death, don't worry.)

It has affected Morgana far more than she anticipated to watch Gwen become the queen.

And Morgana can’t even stick a dagger in Arthur’s throat and simplify the whole process because of that promise she made Gwen in a moment of weakness where she was happy with a plan and eager to close the conversation without a fight.

Morgana is bitter from ceding control to Gwen and is impatient with the lack of change she has made on Arthur. She should have improved the kingdom by now! What about their cause, what about the betterment of life for those with magic? People are still dying, still living in fear all throughout the kingdom! Gwen’s marriage to Arthur was a bitter pill to swallow, but Morgana had masked that with the anticipated sweetness of finally discovering the tool to change Arthur’s positions. But now her hope seems fruitless and only bitterness remains, bitterness that gets directed at Gwen. The fights between them are inevitable now and increase steadily in their intensity.

“You don’t deserve what I’ve given you,” Morgana spits at Gwen one night. “I gave you power and you just sit there telling Arthur he’s right and fawning all over him.”

“Oh, don’t you _dare_ bring me and Arthur’s personal relationship into this,” Gwen interjects. “You know very well that as his queen I’m required to make a show of caring for him in public, and you’re the one who signed me up for this anyway. Yes, I spend time with him! Yes, I’m supposed to have his children! But that was never a problem when you thought you could get a bit more out of it!”

“ _A bit more out of it?!_ Is that all you think of me? I thought we already discussed this-- or haven’t you forgotten?” Morgana’s voice turns chilly. “I have your benefit in mind too.”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “Oh, if you cared so much about my deserving power why are you so upset to see me hold it? And you didn’t give me this power-- or haven’t _you_ forgotten? My power comes because Arthur asked me to marry him.”

Morgana curls her mouth into a sneer. “Well, I see you hold the little tyrant in quite high esteem. Perhaps I should just leave you with him.”

Gwen opens her mouth in surprise and pain, but shuts it angrily. She too has some pride. “Perhaps you should. It isn’t as if you are doing any great work here to free the magical from their suffering as you claim to.”

Gwen knows that she has struck too deep with this last accusation, but she can’t bring herself to apologize. It is true, after all.

So she turns around and walks out.

\---

There’s nothing that holds Morgana to Camelot anymore. She’s free now to do whatever she likes. She doesn’t care who she alienates or who she hurts in the process.

Besides, a promise to a turncloak is no promise at all. Gwen betrayed her-- left her to go stand by Arthur. And now Morgana can kill him.

She vows to do this as soon as possible. There is no need to bother with secrecy, with potions and crystals and elaborate schemes. She needs him dead and then she can ride out leaving a wake of rubble behind her. There’s no one in Camelot with the power to stop her.

She’ll let the crown fall to Gwen. Perhaps she can make something of Camelot without Arthur to interfere. But Morgana wants nothing more to do with the city she hates.

She’ll seek the Druids again, perhaps. Or join the court of a different kingdom. And one day she’ll return to see what has become of Camelot, and maybe try to help it once again.

But for now she has a mission.

\---

It is a simple thing to remove a crossbow from the armory. It is a bit more difficult to smuggle it up into the hallways circling above the great hall, but Morgana has long ago become familiar with the regular movements of the servants and courtiers throughout the corridors. She is able to slip in unseen.

Arthur sits on his throne, hearing petitions from his subjects.

 _Look at how he plays the just king_ , she thinks. _He wears it well. But it is nothing more than an illusion._

Merlin looks up at that moment. His eyes widen as he takes her in, crossbow aimed at King Arthur. But he is along the wall, far from his king. He cannot interfere with her.

Morgana pulls the arrow back, breathing slowly to steady her arm. She sights along the length, and pauses for a moment.

Everything will change if she fires this arrow.

She lets it go with a snap, and the arrow flies straight and true towards its target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Focus will shift away from Morgana soon (all of this is building up to the situation in which Merlin and Mordred would actually get together, but it's long and complicated). It's basically two story arcs, but they need each other in order for the character development to make sense.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading!


	6. Cleaving of Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana leaves Camelot, rubble in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh sorry about the 4 month break there. Life intervened. But see, I haven't stopped completely!
> 
> Merlin POV.

It's another day listening to the complaints of Arthur's subjects. Merlin stays both out of duty and because, more often than seems cosmically fair, complaints come up that no one recognizes as magical, so Merlin must listen to them himself in order to keep the kingdom from collapsing daily. Today, however, it's all about taxes and the court system. Some landlord is being tried for raising taxes on the peasants that may or may not be out of accordance with the law of Camelot, and everyone feels a need to register their opinions. It's certainly an important matter for a politician, but Merlin's mind begins to wander, and soon his eyes follow.

He shifts his weight, looking up at the balcony. The room is certainly an impressive one, and the carvings are beautiful. He skims his eyes across, and then realizes that there is, in the shadows, a person.

Oh gods, Merlin thinks. Oh no. After such a long quiet that he thought everything might turn out alright, there's Morgana with a crossbow. The string is taut. And even if his instinct failed him completely, he has been in too many training sessions not to know exactly where it is going.

The arrow flies. Merlin's eyes flare gold. And it strikes the King's chair, just next to his chest.

It would have been too dangerous to send it any farther. Morgana too knew where exactly she aimed. And besides, Merlin must let Arthur see for himself what a danger Morgana is.

It is bedlam once the arrow flies. The civilians scream, press themselves against walls or flee out of the doors. The knights run towards Arthur. And Arthur himself rolls out of his throne, drawing his sword smoothly as he looks up to the balcony. When he sees Morgana he freezes. He doesn't even seek cover. His training, his instinct; Merlin can see it all leave him as his eyes register betrayal and pain, then anger.

By this point Merlin has rushed to Arthur's side, and Morgana can see that firing another arrow will do nothing. She stands and raises her arms to the sky.

There is a sudden sound of cleaving and rumbling stone. The pillars collapse, the ceiling tumbles. Either Merlin uses his magic, clearly and in front of both Morgana and the king, or there will be a field of death.

As Merlin thinks, Arthur grabs a rough hold of Merlin's arm and drags him under a table.

"Dammit, Merlin, do you even have an ounce of self-preservation?" Arthur growls. He's hurt and angry, and he's going to let Merlin feel it.

Merlin doesn't bother to reply, but turns away so that Arthur cannot see his eyes.

He does what he can without being obvious. People will still be hurt, although of course Arthur will be miraculously spared. Everyone will still be caught under stone and dust. But it will have fallen lightly enough so that hopefully there will be no deaths.

The noise settles, and Merlin collapses onto his side from the exertion, coughing out the gritty air. Magic is so much harder when it is carefully controlled.

Arthur moves to his side, frantically calling his name. "Merlin? Merlin? Are you hit? Oh, god, Merlin, answer me."

Arthur flips Merlin onto his back, looking for blood. He runs his fingers through Merlin's hair to see if it is clotted together with injury.

Merlin realizes quickly that his king is leaning on him chest-to-chest, with his hands in Merlin's hair, and he sits up with a start, pushing himself backwards with his elbows to create a more comfortable amount of space between the two.

"Fine, I was just, ah... ducking," he hurriedly explains. "A precaution. For more detritus. Like in an earthquake, with aftershocks."

Arthur narrows his eyes almost angrily, clearly not buying it, but it isn't a good time to force an explanation.

By this time the knights have surrounded Arthur, and he begins to order them around.

"Sir Leon, come with me. The rest of you, help everyone here. We need to find Morgana." His tone is brusque. They're running out of time.

Merlin pipes up. "Shouldn't we wait for a plan? I mean, she did just bring an entire hall down on us."

Arthur turns to him, oddly angrier than Merlin would expect. "If you're too much of a coward to come, then by all means continue _ducking_ here," he spits out. "Otherwise, we're going."

"Sorry about that," Leon mouths to Merlin as Arthur storms off, before the three of them run outside to find horses and chase down Morgana.

Once again, Merlin thinks, it's all up to me. Hopefully Morgana is as exhausted as he is.


	7. Armory Closets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Mordred finally talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, folks, for sticking with the ridiculous post schedule. I've not given up on y'all! We've headed a few years into the future, and this chapter is POV Merlin. Enjoy :)

Years have passed since Morgana left Camelot. At first Arthur was hell-bent on finding her, at any cost. But Morgana was bitter and lonely. And she did not want to be found.

The last Arthur had heard of her was a years-old rumor of a witch in the woods, a stirring at the Druid camps last spring. It had come to nothing but death, and once again Merlin was forced to watch as his king killed his people.Merlin knew more, of course. Morgana had left the kingdom some time ago, and was living relatively quietly in a distant kingdom where magic was permitted. Merlin even suspected that she had crossed the ocean, left the isle entirely. But some things were best that Arthur did not know. Morgana did not seem to be a danger to his rule any more. And perhaps, wherever she was, she could remember her old self and do some good.

Merlin pauses, sighs. He is walking through the castle, on some small errand for Arthur. He’s tired, though, an exhaustion that reaches beyond his physical condition. He loves Arthur, it is true, and he’ll always be loyal to him. But sometimes, now, he wonders why. 

Merlin sees the good in him, the fiercely righteous integrity and his firm moral compass. No one could argue that in many important ways Arthur has introduced peace, prosperity, and justice to the people of Camelot. 

But Merlin has also seen his cruelty. And as more time passes, Merlin has become aware that he has little to no chance of changing Arthur’s mind about magic. If anything, he’s only managed to harden his heart further against it.

So Merlin wants, just for a short minute, to think of something that has nothing to do with Arthur. It happens rarely enough to likely be unhealthy. He turns to the window, looking out at the expansive landscape. What would life have been like out there? A small woods healer, perhaps. 

A wave of guilt sweeps through Merlin. He can’t forget his destiny after so much time. And more than that, he can’t betray Arthur. He would never leave Arthur, no matter who he became or what happened.

Merlin draws his eyes back down to Camelot, to the practice fields. Arthur is not out this afternoon, so Merlin can distract himself without allowing himself to contemplate the world outside Camelot. The knights are swinging swords at one another, and the newest recruit Mordred seems to be holding his own.

Merlin pauses. If there’s anyone who could understand his position, it’s Mordred. Merlin has forgotten the last time he was able to actually talk to someone. Even when Gaius was alive, Merlin wouldn’t have been able to speak of doubts of his destiny. Frustrations, yes. Anger, even. But doubt. That would have been something else, would have felt like a betrayal. But there was someone here, in this very castle, who could understand Merlin.

Merlin isn’t foolish enough to trust the man. But he is experienced enough to know that destiny isn’t everything. And desperate enough to bury his concerns.

\---

Merlin waits in the armory for the knights to finish practice. He polishes Arthur's spare gauntlets over and over, mindlessly moving the cloth as he waits for the knights to finish and Mordred to walk through the door. It seems as if they're taking longer than normal, and doubt floods through Merlin's stomach.

This is a bad idea, he shouldn't--

But just as he starts to put the gauntlets don, to fade into the background, the smell of sweat fills the room and the knights swell in.

Gwaine is first to enter, grinning at Merlin and jokingly shoving his head down as Gwaine pasases hum. 

"Actually going your job now, eh Merlin?"

Merlin scowls noncommittally, too distracted to fully engage with Gwaine's banter.

Mordred enters towards the back, laughing with Elyan. As he passes, Merlin reaches out and stops him with a hand on his arm. 

"Excuse me, Mordred."

Mordred turns back, confused. He smiles politely, but there's uncertainty in his eyes. Merlin generally avoids Mordred, communicating with hostility if at all.

Merlin is suddenly aware of how public the situation is. He doesn't have an excuse prepared. Also, he just grabbed a knight's arm-- etiquette isn't usually something Merlin generally bothers with, but technically speaking this moment is entirely inappropriate. He shakes his head lightly, settling on the first lie that bubbles to the surface of his mind.

"There's a problem," Merlin says.

"Sir," he adds as an afterthought. "With your armor."

The confusion on Mordred's face grows, but he turns towards Merlin, nodding at Elyan to signal an end to their previous conversation.

"Perhaps we should step outside," Mordred speaks in a low voice.

Merlin nods, relieved that Mordred is able to sense the loaded nature of his words. Merlin glances around for a brief moment-- none of the other knights have distinguished anything peculiar in their exchange or departure-- and then turns to leave the armory, allowing Mordred to follow behind him. As he steps through the door, he hears Mordred's voice in his head.

_Emrys? Is everything alright?_

Merlin freezes. He had almost forgotten about their communication, and the magic unsettles him so close to the knights.

_Don't_ \-- he starts, referring to the name, then pauses, speaks aloud.

"This way."

Mordred follows cautiously, content for now to let Merlin lead. But once they reach the room-- Merlin has led them to a spare storage room room for the supplies that lay dormant when Camelot is not at war-- Mordred turns, hands crossed on his chest and anger bleeding into the confusion in his eyes.

Merlin realizes, belatedly, that Mordred is setting himself up for a confrontation, that he believes that Merlin has brought his here to attack him.

Merlin sighs, drops his eyes.

“I’m not going to challenge you, Mordred. I brought you here to talk.”

“Talk?” Mordred is surprised. “About what?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin falters. “I haven’t spoken to anyone about my…” He pauses out of habit. “See, there’s the problem. I has been so long I’m not even used to saying it. My magic, Mordred.” He looks Mordred in the eye. “What are we doing here?”

“What do you mean? I know Camelot’s not ideal, but Arthur…”

“Yes,” Merlin agrees. “And destiny.” He shakes his head. “I’m loyal to Arthur and Camelot, I don’t want you to think I’m going down Morgana’s path here. I’ve spent my entire life here following my destiny. I’ve protected Arthur for so long, all to help bring magic to Camelot. But it isn’t that now, is it? How long has it been since I actually worked towards that goal?” Merlin pauses. “Years. Long years. How did I…”

He pushes himself away from the wall he has been leaning against.

“This was a mistake. I’m sorry for burdening you with this.”

Mordred stops him from exiting by leaning against the door, glaring at Merlin through narrowed eyes. When he speaks, it's with frustration.

“No, Merlin, we are going to talk. Because what you choose affects us all. And you’re not the only one here who’s confused. I mean, you’ve acted as if you’ve hated me ever since you met me again, and now you’re pulling my into a closet to _talk_? So yes, _Emrys_ , we will definitely be talking. Start with this-- what are you doing? And why are you so opposed to me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave y'all with a conversational cliff-hanger, but here it is.


	8. Confronting Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordred and Merlin have their conversation.

Merlin flounders. This is a lot more confrontational than what he had envisioned. Although really, what had he envisioned? That Mordred would just sit there and listen to his problems, nod along and fix them for him? What had Merlin ever done to deserve Mordred’s help?

He sighs. The prophecy seems so far away in the light of day, its intensity dulled by years of watching other prophecies, other destinies, crumble around him.

“A seer--” Merlin’s voice goes quiet. “You’re going to kill Arthur.”

Mordred stares at him. “Are you serious?” Merlin nods miserably. Mordred shakes his head, looking down at the floor in what appears to be misery. “Merlin,” he starts, his voice pained, “you’ve seen me. You know that I am loyal. I would never hurt Arthur unless…”

“Unless?”

Mordred looks up. “Unless he does something unforgivable, Merlin." His voice hardens somewhat. "Which, as you may have noticed, is your responsibility to keep him from doing. Although you don’t seem to be working very hard at that. I don’t pretend to understand the relationship between you two, but it seems like you’ve been losing control. He burned another Druid camp, Merlin. And you didn’t lift a finger to stop him. What are you doing?”

“A finger-- is that what you think I was doing? Nothing, just standing idly around? Do you know how many more people would have died if I hadn’t been around to help?”

“I’m not saying that you didn’t save people in the moment, but where is the Merlin that could convince Arthur that there was a better way?”

 

Merlin sags against the wall, defeated. “That’s what I brought you here to talk about.”

“Clearly it needs an explanation.”

Merlin draws in a deep breath and rubs his hand over his head, preparing to speak. Seeing the pain on his face, Mordred can no longer hold onto his cold anger. He reaches out an arm to place it on Merlin’s shoulder. “Here, sit down.” He clears a barrel with his magic, grabbing the gauntlets that rested on it at the same time, placing them on a nearby shelf. Merlin gratefully sits. Mordred kneels before him. “Take a deep breath-- there’s no rush.”

Merlin removes his hands, looks up. He meets Mordred’s eyes for a moment before addressing the wall behind him.

“Did I ever tell you how I met Arthur?”

“No,” Mordred responded. “Is it relevant?” he asks, irritation creeping into his voice.

Merlin waves a hand. “Just hear me out. It’s a story I’m telling you, it has to have a beginning. Anyway, when I met Arthur I hated him. Thought he was a pompous prat-- still think that sometimes, honestly. But we met when we got into a fight about someone he was tormenting. I don’t remember, it was a long time ago, but I didn’t know who he was so I fought him. When I found out I was disgusted-- _this_ was the man my destiny wrote me with? This was the man who was going to help me create a free Camelot where magic was allowed?

“And then time passed and he changed, he grew into the man he is today and my perception of him changed and the prophecy became of second importance to him, his safety and happiness. And I had to protect him at all costs because he was good and righteous and kind and was going to fix everything that was wrong with Camelot.

“I don’t know that I see that anymore, Merlin. I will protect Arthur the man at all costs because he is dear to me and I do believe that he is good, I do, but at some point it became less about magic and more about Arthur. I don’t remember when that was, but..”

“It has been since I’ve known you,” Mordred interjects gently.

Merlin nods.

“But you can’t simply be a slave to destiny,” Mordred continues.

Merlin shakes his head. “I haven’t just been ignoring destiny, I--” He breaks off, rocking back and forth slowly in silence, arms propped on the barrel. “You don’t know the half of it, Mordred. When you almost died, I… I told Arthur that magic had no place in Camelot to convince him not to save you.”

Mordred stands and backs up to the door. His eyes tighten and his mouth opens as if to begin speaking, but he closes it again, shaking his head.

“Mordred, wait, I thought you were going to kill Arthur!” His voice has risen.

Mordred takes a step forward. “Keep your voice down,” he hisses. “Have years of hiding your magic taught you nothing of discretion?”

“Mordred,” he repeats, voice lower but urgent. “I made the wrong choice, but you can understand how I made it. That’s what I’ve been telling you this whole time-- my commitment to Arthur has become more than my commitment to magic. But I misjudged destiny. Destiny can be rewritten-- clearly I’ve made a mess of my own. And it seems that only a failure of my destiny, and Arthur’s, could lead to a fulfillment of yours.

“We can rewrite destiny, Mordred, we don’t simply have to accept it. And I need your help to do so.”

Mordred stares at him, face filled with hurt. “You admit to trying to murder me not a month past, and now what? You expect suddenly for us to be best friends, to sit down and plan our lives?”

Shame brings heat to Merlin’s face, but he forces his eyes to meet Mordred’s. “I’m asking for _forgiveness_ , Mordred. I made a mistake, but I did it to protect the very man you made an oath to in order to receive that armor. Your forgiveness and your help. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Mordred brushes a hand angrily over his eyes as if to dispel tears. “I’ll have to consider it,” he says. There’s a tone of haughtiness imposed on the words, but the break in his voice counteracts the effect. He turns at that, storming out of the closet.

Merlin returns his face to his hands, remaining on the barrel. As soon as he leaves the closets there will be explanations to be given, chores to do, problems to solve, likely lives to save-- the parade of challenges never ceases-- but here, for a moment, he can pretend to ignore it all-- destiny, and the life it has given him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly not happy with where this fic is going. I promise to finish it, but I'm going to start something proper, with actual character development and story arc and dialogue and all afterwards. The semester's over so I'll have more time to write, but I'm still extremely tied up with work, school and otherwise, so no commitments can be made. Sorry about that!


	9. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Mordred forgive one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally updated!
> 
> Honestly, this is just short and shameless fluff. Back to your regularly scheduled plotlines next update ;)
> 
> (Also enjoy the fluff while you can, because we return to angst next time.)

Mordred doesn’t forgive Merlin immediately. His anger is too tinged with hurt and righteousness and bubbles just too close to the surface to put away. It simmers and quiets with time, however. How could it not? Emrys seated in front of him begging his forgiveness-- it feels wrong somehow, Emrys should be _in control_ , should be a leader… 

And yet.

After the anger has passed something else keeps Mordred avoiding Merlin. Mordred has always considered Merlin to be an authority, even when he questioned his actions. But Merlin now seemed to think of Mordred as an equal. As an adult.

And if Merlin sees him as mature… Mordred pushes the thought out of his mind. A childhood infatuation forcing its way back to the surface, that’s all these feelings are. If he just avoids Merlin-- just a few days more, just a few days will be enough-- this will simply become a memory. 

Merlin is something off limits, Mordred tells himself. He’s likely the king’s lover anyway.

When a week has passed Mordred sees Merlin eyeing him nervously, with something akin to fear in his eyes. It turns Mordred’s stomach. It is cruel to keep Merlin waiting like this once Mordred’s anger has passed-- and over what?

So Merlin steels himself and pulls Merlin aside the next morning as he rushes with breakfast to the king’s chambers. (Late as usual.)

“Can you pull yourself away this evening? I’d like to talk away from Camelot.” Mordred smiles-- the words must remain cryptic within the castle, but he wants to ease Merlin’s worries before they talk.

It works. The tension leaks out of Merlin’s shoulders, and he lights up, nose twitching slightly.

Was Merlin truly afraid of Mordred’s words?

“I’ll steal something from the kitchens, we can make a picnic out of it,” Merlin answers.

Mordred laughs. “Don’t you have to fill Arthur’s cup at supper or something?”

“Yes.” Merlin grins. “But I can’t do that with a wildly contagious stomach bug very well, now can I?”

“In that case, I’ll see you then.” Mordred reaches out and brushes Merlin’s arm as a farewell gesture before he can think better of it. Merlin stills but does nothing to discourage him, so Mordred squeezes lightly before releasing and backing up.

“Farewell,” he says, before turning and walking off.

Simply a friendly gesture.

\---

Later that afternoon, as Mordred passes Merlin in the corridor, Merlin calls out in his mind.

_Meet you at the west gate. Forty-five minutes._

Mordred starts, then immediately attempts to disguise it. Merlin’s usually more cautious with small magic, and Mordred does not want to spook him away from this new comfort.

_I shall see you soon, Emrys._

Merlin rolls his eyes at the name. It’s good-natured, though, and he passes without replying.

Mordred shows up early, but so does Merlin. When he arrives, Merlin holds the basket out.

“I have…” he draws the basket back and lifts the napkin covering, poking his nose in. “An apple. No, wait, two apples! Um, a stale loaf. And-- well, you don’t want to know about that.” He shrugs. “Cook caught me pretty quickly. The loaf is her gift.”

“Gift?” Mordred asks. The cook is rarely so generous to give even a stale loaf to a thieving Merlin.

“Well, as much of a gift as a projectile at your head can be. But I take it as a sign of affection.”

“I suppose it’s what you’re used to.” Mordred means it as a gentle ribbing, but Merlin freezes.

“I’m sorry, I--” Mordred begins, but Merlin cuts him off with a shake of the head.

“It’s fine.” A smile tugs at the corners of Merlin’s mouth, but it’s a shade too deliberate to be real. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Right, of course.”

The tension has dissipated by the time they reach the clearing, some fifteen minutes away. Merlin throws himself onto the ground, gangly but somehow coordinated. Mordred is reminded of the strange parts Merlin plays-- bumbling servant, powerful warlock. Mordred leans against the tree opposite Merlin. He doesn’t quite want to explain later why his clothes are caked in dirt, so he avoids the forest floor.

Merlin throws him an apple, shaking Mordred out of his reverie.

“So how do we do this?” Merlin asks.

Mordred sighs. “I don’t exactly have any more answers than you do. But if we…” He pauses, looking for the right words. He bites into the apple, giving himself time to think. “We’re in this together. We want the same thing, and we need to work together.” His brow creases slightly. “You need to stop shutting me out, which-- which I think you’re fixing now, so I suppose we’re on the right track.”

A bird calls, signaling the fast-approaching dusk.

Mordred looks down at Merlin. “There’s a world out there, you know. Kingdoms and cities and causes and magic. You don’t have to be tied to Arthur.” His voice quiets as he speaks, and silence reigns in the seconds afterwards. Only the insects cry out.

“I know. But I am,” Merlin replies simply.

Mordred shifts, looking away. “Me too.”

Merlin laughs gently. “I suppose that’s the heart of the matter.”

“Do we just stay, then?”

“I suppose,” Merlin repeats.

They stay that way until the dark closes in on them. Minutes-- night falls quickly this time of year-- but stretched ones.

Merlin finally pushes himself up off the ground, tossing his apple core behind him into the bushes and walking towards Mordred’s tree.

“Let’s go find some real food.”

They walk back to the castle, Merlin keeping every rock to stumble on out of the path. Mordred stays but inches from Merlin. It’s to avoid the cold of night. To protect himself from errant stones, tree branches, he justifies. But Merlin walks close as well, and nobody asks the other why.


	10. Secret Missives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen receives a message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally getting to the point where Arthur can be appropriately sad and lonely.
> 
> (It's been years since I started this and now I'm bitter and jaded. But don't worry! I will finish it if it kills me.)

Gwen had not heard from Morgana since she left. Her life now was largely uninterrupted anymore with thoughts of magic.

That would be, of course, apart from the periodic episodes of debilitating guilt. Camelot had twisted Morgana, but now Morgana is far away and Arthur is getting warped in her stead. It was a different man that she had married.

But the guilt softens with melancholy over time and she accepts her life. Returns to the distractions of life. Helping her people. (They’re her people now, and the problems she notices she actually has power to fix. Save the issue of magic, of course.)

She takes walks in the woods. Strange people come across her path every once in a while, but she thinks little of it. But one day a woman pulls her aside, with the hermetic dishevelled appearance and nervous eyes Gwen has come to associate with the hidden sorcerers, and Gwen is flooded immediately with fear.

Morgana must be back to take her revenge.

But the woman bows, gentle and non-threatening, and Gwen calms the pounding of her heart long enough to listen.

“Your Majesty, I have a letter if you’d receive it.” She looks up shyly. “I have heard of the good queen here. It is an honor, my lady.”

Gwen smiles, takes the letter. “Thank you. What is your name?”

The woman smiles. “Best not uttered within the confines of this kingdom.”

Apprehension returns, but Gwen takes the letter with a soft smile and gracious manner-- she’s a practiced courtesan now.

“Thank you.” She turns it in her hands as if to break the wax seal, but the sorceress stops her with a cold hand atop her own.

“Save it for when you’re alone.” She looks around. “I must go. But you’ll find me again here when the time comes to respond.”

Gwen blinks, opens her mouth to bid farewell. But she’s gone.

\--

Gwen paces that night in her room. Her hair’s still up, her gown’s still on, but she dismissed the maidservant for the night already. She draws the letter out of her bodice, smooths it in her hands.

She could throw it in the fire.

No, she can’t.

So she opens it.

My dear Gwen,

I am so sorry.

Gwen stops, presses it to her chest. Morgana doesn’t apologize. Has she changed, or does she want something? Then again, if she were to apologize to anyone…

Tears threaten to spill, but she turns her attention back.

I know how I left was wrong, but Camelot made me cruel. You were all I had, but I was not all you had. I was jealous and petty and frustrated and wrong. But I’m not ready to lose you, my dear. I’ve come back across the channel, but I will not hurt anyone this time. Nor will I force anything of you.

I’m lonely, Gwen. I want to tell you about everything I’ve seen these years. I want to introduce you to the sorcerers across the world. Not everywhere is like Camelot, dear Gwen. If you tell me to leave you will never have to hear from me again. But I’m hoping that you’ll join me.

Please write, my love.

Morgana.

Tears are streaming down Gwen’s face, and even though she knows she has a loyalty to Camelot, that she made vows to Arthur, she knows what she has to do. 

It’s time to write some letters of her own.


	11. Crumbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're here! Penultimate chapter! Finally making good on my promise of Arthur alone! Enjoy!

Typically when Arthur wakes, Gwen is there beside him, either still sleeping or reading before her daily routines begin. Of course, Arthur is a heavy sleeper, so when she does occasionally rise before him he even more occasionally recognizes that fact until he himself wakes in the morning.

This is to say that when Arthur wakes and finds his bed empty, no alarm bells go off. He stretches out and is about to find Merlin to complain about no breakfast being ready when a letter on his desk catches his eye. It would be nearly impossible for it to not, after all. His name is written in large letters in Gwen’s handwriting on the outside, and a large sparkling stone-- likely from the queen’s jewels-- acts as a paperweight.

Frowning, he walks over to the desk and unfolds it.

_Arthur,_

_I’m so sorry, but I could not stay. I married you, it pains me to admit, because I thought it would help the plans of Morgana and myself._

_You prove yourself at moments to be kind and honorable, but it is not enough. I have another chance to do good at the side of the woman who was the rightful queen of Camelot._

_Perhaps I am making the wrong choice and it will all come to ruin, but it is a gamble I must take._

_Please do not come looking for me._

_I do hold love for you, for what it is worth, and I hope to God that you find it in you to become the great man you still hold the potential to become. Look in yourself and look to Merlin._

_With love and regret,  
Gwen. _

The letter hits Arthur like a blow, and he collapses into a chair, paper slipping to the floor as he sinks his head into his hands.

_It’s everything his father warned him about, it’s betrayal and magical conspiracy close to home. His wife…_

Anger and despair fight for dominance in his stomach, and he summons the anger, letting it push out vulnerability and fear and _misery_ , letting it dry his tears and clench his fists and roar through his head.

“Merlin!!” he yells.

\---

Merlin bursts in, harried, holding a breakfast tray. 

“Yes, yes, sorry sire, it’s here, it’s really a funny story really but--” Merlin falls quiet and his brow creases as he takes in Arthur. His eyes are shining and red-ringed, his breath ragged and his hands in fists. Merlin isn’t sure whether Arthur is about to deck him or burst into tears, and it doesn’t seem that the king is certain either.

“What is it, Arthur?” Merlin asks quietly.

Arthur spits the words through gritted teeth. “The former queen has betrayed the kingdom.” He turns away from Merlin to face the window. “Gwen has always been loyal to Morgana over Camelot, and today she made her allegiances clear. She defected.”

Merlin inhales sharply. “My lord, perhaps you’re mistaken. Gwen was… well, I don’t think she could ever--”

Arthur cuts Merlin off by stepping aggressively into his space, the threat of violence in his eyes.

“Well, obviously you were wrong. Read it.” Arthur shoves the letter towards Merlin on the ground with his foot.

Merlin stoops and unfolds it, the silence in the room strained by tension and a pair of overactive heartbeats as he reads.

When he finishes Merlin shakes his head.

“My lord, I don’t…” He trails off, unsure of how to comfort Arthur at this point. Hadn’t he thought himself of leaving with Mordred?

Some of the anger has leeched out of Arthur, leaving an air of desperation that Merlin is unaccustomed to seeing Arthur present.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t left,” Arthur says quietly, staring at the stone next to Merlin’s feet.

Heat flushes Merlin’s face. He doesn’t deserve even this faint praise-- _please, Arthur, stop_ but Arthur isn’t looking, doesn’t see the panic on his face.

“I… Merlin…” Arthur looks up now into Merlin’s face, takes a step even further towards Merlin, and Merlin’s heart is hammering. He wants to turn, wants to run, but he can’t. “You’re the only loyal person here, the only one I can trust, it seems. How long has it been? And you’ve been here by my side.” Arthur pauses. His hand comes gently to Merlin’s shoulder, his head hangs slightly so that they are eye-to-eye. “Merlin…” _and his voice is hoarse and vulnerable and he’s rawer than Merlin has ever seen him and why doesn’t he stop now, stop while they still can preserve the past lifetime intact_ “do you love me?”

Every nerve in Merlin’s body is screaming. A word and he could have everything he ever wanted, he could drag destiny from the ruins into which it had crumbled and make something of the prophecy, he could finish the story and everything would be just as it was supposed to be, they could save Camelot together. But the words stick in his throat in the familiar way that characterized every lie among the hundreds, among the thousands, that he’s told this man in front of him in the years past and he knows that this, too, would count among them.

He doesn’t say it, then, and somewhere through the rushing of blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart he hears himself say:

“I did once, sire.”

And Arthur steps back, and any openness is gone, and Merlin follows it out, through the door and away from Arthur and everything that was supposed to have been.


	12. A Well Reasoned Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah yeah it's been a year but I hate myself more than you ever could (and since that last chapter was published I applied to 10 colleges had a nervous breakdown and depressive episode moved cross country started college changed my major developed an eating disorder came out of the closet started recovery and wrote a shitton of college essays so like... I've been busy)
> 
> woo we're done I literally haven't seen an episode of this show since 2014 and this whole mess only started bc I don't like arthur but I take my promises seriously and we're finally done
> 
> aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Once Merlin has been missing from the knights’ practice for two days, Mordred seeks him out in his quarters. The sharp rap on the door goes unanswered at first, but when Mordred tentatively calls out Merlin comes to answer.

The heavy wood door swings open to reveal Merlin with dark sunken eyes and the distinct odor of the unwashed. His appearance points to Merlin’s not having left his rooms for some time, and from the bags under his eyes, he hasn’t been spending the time resting. 

“Are you alright, Merlin? Are you ill?” Mordred pushes immeditately into the room. “You should lie down, here, if you need me to prepare something--” He stops suddenly as he finally glances away from Merlin’s face and to the room. It’s in chaos, as if it had been ransacked, and a number of bags lay filled on the floor with books and jars.

“Merlin.” Mordred’s tone has changed-- his jaw is tight and his gaze is a accusatory mix of anger and pity. “What are you doing.”

“There’s nothing left here.” He turns to the shelf, snatching a book and shoving it into a bag.

“Merlin, stop, Merlin--” Mordred follows, takes him by the shoulders. “Tell me what is happening. Right now.”

“I haven’t been staying for destiny for a long time, you know that. And Arthur now… well, he doesn’t want to see me, and there is nothing else I can do for him. It’s over, I ruined it a long time ago and I need to accept that.” Merlin jerks away. He hasn’t met Mordred’s eyes.

“Merlin. What happened?” Silence. The book goes in the bag, and Merlin squats before it. “You need to take a breath. Come with me.” He gestures to Merlin. Maybe if they go out to the woods… 

“He asked me if I loved him.” Merlin doesn’t look up from the bag.

This time it’s Mordred who freezes. 

“What did you say?”

Merlin laughs, jarringly. “I’m always saying years ago. Well, if it had been years ago. If I had made any sort of different decision years ago. But I didn’t, and it’s over. I’m not staying for destiny, and I’m not staying for him. I’m not staying.”

“I… have you thought about this?”

“No, I’ve been sitting in this room for two days somehow avoiding thinking at all while I begin the process of completely upending my entire life and destiny that I’ve been willing to die or kill for more times than I can count.”

Mordred closes his eyes. This is insane, Merlin is overreacting, nothing has actually changed since last week, they have destinies, this is a cosmic decision, he has to consider things…

He opens them again. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eta: y'all I dragged myself out of the metaphorical and semi physical gutter to finish this I'm gonna need some feedback
> 
> like tell me you hated it I don't care just tell me something I'll beg as much as I have to I'm not afraid


End file.
